A Long Fifteen Minutes Of Fame

After all is said and done,
you say you've lived a fulfilling life.
You've travelled the world,
scaled Mount Everest,
and took a supermodel for a wife.
Colin Kapernik,
he took a stand.
That's how he made a name for himself.
With many book deals,
and cultural awards,
added to his story to tell.
Then when all is gone,
and everyone left,
he'll try to do it over again.
Yet, still his old job is lost,
and he realizes in the end,
he had his fifteen minutes of fame.
The poor scientists,
in other countries,
are all building the same thing.
They wonder who can build it faster,
like it is some kind of game.
They have nothing going for them.
Their project is their last defence.
They get punished if they say where they stand,
is on the fence.
As their neighbors show them no love,
as they are constantly in pain.
Their project missiles are raining from above,
as they have their fifteen minutes of fame.
The cartels,
they have their money.
and they have their beautiful wives,
with compound mansions in the desert,
away from prying eyes.
As for the enemy, they multiply,
so do the murder and feds.
It is ten years of easy living,
with all dead family and friends.
So when all is said,
you pay off the judges,
wind up dead, or in chains.
Still, your reign will never be the same,
after your fifteen minutes of fame.
As for the Pope,
he keeps people happy,
while changing up all the words.
He speaks and blesses the crowd,
and they like just what they've heard.
He wears his crucifix proudly,
as he wears his Christian robe.
With his yam-ache on his head,
he waves along the road.
When the next pope comes,
in his bullet proof mobile,
he'll put all the other ones to shame.
At his big funeral,
everyone will say that they,
enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame.
The mediocre architect has ideas.
His work is small at best.
He comes up with something brilliant,
and cannot wait to tell the rest.
Not long after his brilliant idea,
his plan is in someone else's name.
Allowing it to be stolen,
he is the one blame.
As the other company gets rich,
his ideas fade.
Mediocre, he will always remain.
Though he is humble knowing,
that he did not get his fifteen minutes of fame.
You see the rebels with their guns.
They have their moment to march.
Their going into the city,
with intent to harm.
After their fight is over,
and everything is all torn down.
Rubble is everywhere in the streets.
Bodies are all over the ground,
and when nothing is left,
and everyone is dead,
and the blood is all washed away,
there will be nothing left to claim,
after their fifteen minutes of fame.
The metal fences, they go for miles.
Deep Horizon was state of the art,
until the whole place caught fire,
but it still did it's part.
Notre Dame even has its secrets.
It would not last -
a beautiful structure with wickedness,
within it's past.
The metal fences will rust and fall,
as it corrodes and deteriorates.
What is fifteen hundred years is really,
fifteen minutes of fame.

ANDY WARHOL was right
We all need our 15 minutes ...
Of FAME. Im only 30 and Ive already
Had a few ~ OK. Graduating : my first JOB
My next will be in OCTOBER : when I
Receive my QUALIFICATION as a

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.